The Longest Night. Kathleen O'Reilly

      This one growled, showing really big teeth.

      “Shoo. I’m going inside now.”

      The dog ignored her.

      “I’m walking to the door now,” she said, taking two slow steps.

      The dog still ignored her.

      “I’m coming closer. Don’t upset me, dog, or you’ll be sorry.”

      The dog opened one sleepy eye.

      Two more steps and he began to growl.

      “Don’t mess with me.” And almost, almost, almost…

      He jumped to his feet and started barking.

      Not.

      She blew out a breath and stared the dog down.

      He glared back, showing more teeth. God, she hated those teeth.

      As she made her way to the back door, she cursed all dogs, cursed all dog puppies, and decided that immediately when she made it to safety, she was calling Animal Control.

      When she walked into the living room, she glanced outside. Spawn was still there.

      “Fine. It’s your doggie hide.” She looked up the number for Animal Control, dialed, and got a recording. Due to budget constraints, they were closed on Sundays. So she left her name and number and hung up.

      Then she opened the front door and yelled at the animal. “I’ll say this for you, you’re one lucky dog. You’ve got twenty-four hours and then the police are coming for you, Spawn.”

      The dog lifted his big head and growled.

      “If you think I’m going to feed you, you’re nuts.”

      Later, after the sun had gone down, she peeked outside, just to see if he was still there. There he was, sleeping the deep sleep of the innocent—while trespassing on her property. He looked kind of thin, though, so she crept outside to look closer. She should feed him. Bad nutrition could cause all sorts of problems, like poor skin and weak bones. And Animal Control would be here in the morning and they’d take him away, so what harm was there in giving the mutt some food.

      He didn’t stir when she approached and she noticed his ribs clearly showing through. Anorexic dog. Then she bent and put the rice cakes and chips on the ground. Not that close, cause she still didn’t trust him. Just as soon as she was done, she ran back inside.

      After she left, the dog opened one eye and stared. Then he wolfed down the food and just as quickly went back to sleep.

      ON MONDAY MORNING, Animal Control appeared before Cassandra had even done her makeup, so she shoved a baseball cap on and pulled it low. Spawn was still happily curled on her porch, oblivious to his impending doom.

      The Animal Control guy, Gus, was very nice. Cassandra asked him all sorts of questions about what would happen with the dog, merely because she was ignorant about how these things worked. Spawn had a thirty-day shot at adoption and, if he was voted off the island, then they’d put him to sleep.

      It seemed harsh, but the city was cutting back. She considered the big monster, realized that if there was an island castoff, he was it. Nobody would adopt this dog. Finally she shook her head. He didn’t deserve this, not with those teeth, and his owner could still be out there, searching.

      “Let him stay here for now.”

      Gus frowned. Obviously he didn’t like having his power of life and death usurped. “You’ll have to get him shots and tags. It’s illegal for him to be without them. And watch the noise. Too much barking and I’ll be back.”

      She smiled and easily summoned a thousand watts of sexuality—guaranteed to weaken the strongest man’s will, even without her makeup. “I’ll take care of it today, assuming that I can get in to see a vet.”

      “There’s a new place on Cedar Avenue. They’ll do him. And Tuesday night he stays open until nine. If you decide to keep him, get him neutered. Pet population—it’s all our responsibility.”

      She tugged at the brim of her cap. “Of course. Thank you for your help, Gus. Sorry to have dragged you out here for nothing.”

      “You brightened my day, ma’am. That’s enough.”

      After the Animal Control truck pulled away, Spawn lifted his massive head and eyed her.

      She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t think I was being nice, you understand? You’ve got twenty-four hours to find your owner. Twenty-four hours, that’s it. After that, you’re on your own.”

      FOR THE FIRST TIME in her thirteen years in the diamond biz, Cassandra was the sole proprietor of Diamonds by Ward & Ward. Jozef Ward, her father, had left for the summer. His destination: the lake cabin in Minnesota. Thereby leaving Cassandra solely in charge. His last words before he left were, “Don’t let the power go to your head. I’ll be back.”

      Before he’d gone, Jozef hired Kimberly for the summer help. Heavy accent on the word “summer” and light on the word “help.” The girl had brains, her father wouldn’t have hired her otherwise; however, Kimberly also had attitude in spades. And if Cassandra hadn’t felt minor sympathy for her—the girl was a fashion train wreck—she would have fired her after two weeks.

      Cassandra dug under the papers on the counter, searching through the notepads that had been so nicely organized before she’d taken her day off. Her one day off, thank you very much. Then she came back and everything was a mess.

      “Kimberly, did you see the notes I took for Mr. Amesworth? He’s got an appointment on Thursday and I wanted to pick out a few stones for him.”

      “Did you check on the counter?”

      Did you check on the counter? Cassandra mimed to the god of patience. “Yes, I did.”

      “Haven’t seen it,” yelled Kimberly from the back.

      “Can you help me look for it?”

      Kimberly appeared in the doorway to the front area, in full confrontational stance with her fists on hips and jaw set tight. It was more pity than fear that struck Cassandra. She shook her head at the loose brown shirt, faded brown jeans and wiry brown hair. The girl needed a renewed body outlook, that was for sure.

      “I haven’t seen it. By the way, Mr. Liepshutz was by yesterday, looking for you.”

      Cassandra stopped looking. She didn’t like Sidney Liepshutz. Didn’t want to be alone with Sidney Liepshutz and Kimberly knew it. Kimberly smiled a screw-you smile. “I told him you’d be working today.”

      Cassandra was about to start yelling when the door buzzer sounded and a construction worker came in. Mark, Matthew—he had some “M” name that Cassandra had forgotten. The twenty-two-year-old boy-toy had developed a crush. On her.

      He doffed his hard hat, a rather sweet gesture, and coughed. “Miss Ward, I just wanted to tell you that we’ll be working on the water lines again today.”

      Which translated to: the power was going to be cut. “How long will you be working today?”

      “All day, ma’am,” he said. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you.”

      “I’m sure I’m not the only one,” she said with a faux smile. The last thing she needed was for the power to go out. The store’s locks were electronic and when there was no power, there was no business. She turned, ready to ask Kimberly about the appointments for the day, but Kimberly wasn’t paying attention to Cassandra. No, Kimberly was in a trance. Change that to starstruck. She was starstruck at the sight of Mark, Matthew or whatever the boy’s name was.

      Interesting. She looked almost nice when she was in the throes of lust.

      Every woman had her weakest point, usually tied to a man, and finally Cassandra had found one in Kimberly. Mark, Matthew or whatever.

      “Kimberly,”